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Lil Ginobili

3:24

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99, premature young nigga barely made it by, I seen my brother Ken in blood
That shit made me cry
Young nigga been thru hella shit was born in 99
And if you felt my fucking pain would you make it by
How would you feel, if them niggas slid, them glocks booming, you not a shooter
So quit the cappin, just keep it music
A businessman, I touch money only and f*ck groupies
Givenchy gone be on mama Rolex for pops too
Bro finger itching, make a move and brody quick to shoot
He got the glizzy with him, got extensions looking like a ruler
We only aim for the brain, I’m nailing his medulla
Leave him froze from belt down
I call that boy Medusa
Stunting hard on these niggas,
but I’m not Buda, all about my cheese
Ain’t tryna beef, I’m tryna make Gouda
Send a nigga to god, you better thank the shooter, only aim for the brain
We leaving niggas clueless
I lost some niggas to the streets so you don’t feel my pain
100 shots in this bitch we finna make it rain
I got my glock, bro got his glock
we finna catch a stain, we got the uppercase choppa
Hit em with the K, hmmph
He caught a shot, his ass delirious my hands always came from the mud
I’m really curious
Getting fast money, brody dead I’m really furious, easing all this pain
Niggas gotta take some medicine
Percs ease me up, but I ain’t slow I really got a gift, leave a nigga with a bow tie
And a broken limb
How many times I gotta tell em, please show my respect
I really poured a four, I ran out, please call the connect
I’m really plugged with some shooters, tell em up the tec, will ice a nigga
Put em on skates, now we finna sesh
Put yo mans in my wood, yeah I’m facing death
They left em with some sharded glass bones, but he ain’t taking meth
Rollie flooded with diamonds, yeah it got baguettes
I’m up on you low class clowns go get a fucking check
Feed a nigga the pump, like he got asthma
Brody on the road flipping bows like a house crasher
Hit yo bitch like the Quon, but I’m not Kasher
Aiming up top why the f*ck you got a flak jacket
Armstrong in the work, but I’m not Darrell, turn a nigga head to an Arrow
Like he from Kansas
Brody fiending for the blues, like he from St Louis
You the type to beef over pussy shit that’s yo coochie
Drenched with Gucci cologne got yo mans fuming
I don’t give a f*ck about this bitch, she just a loose groupie
Bitch, I bought the blick, yeah I’m a loose cannon
I’ll turn a nigga to a ghost, like a white phantom
Shoot a nigga in his stomach yeah he lost plasma
Put a nigga on a pacemaker, give him chest fractures
Still touching blue cheese, let me run it up
I ain’t gone lie you sound slow you tryna get the ups
Free my niggas boxed in, it’s like an uppercut
This 40 rearrange yo face like a hockey puck
Still touching blue cheese, let me run it up
I ain’t gone lie you sound slow you tryna get the ups
Free my niggas boxed in, it’s like an uppercut
This 40 rearrange yo face like a hockey puck
Yeah we still high speeding, headshot shit the nigga think he dreaming
Ima spend a check up at Neiman’s
Sak’s Fifth, shit I love blue cheesing
I lost a couple niggas it won’t be the same
Give all the money that I made just to make it change
Shit we still finna make it rain
This 40 got some kickback like some bad aim
Still fucking niggas hoes, bitch I could never change
I can’t hang with these niggas, I swear y’all so lame
Y’all quick to tell and point fingers
Call em Rocaine
These carties on my face, white as f*ck like some cocaine

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